


The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place

by Luftig



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst, Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-01-16 17:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21274769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luftig/pseuds/Luftig
Summary: The Catastrophe knocked out the light in the world. Ash and debris cover the streets, and people are desperate, just trying to survive. Wanda Maximoff goes through this chaotic world, dealing with loss and uncertainty, while meeting new people along the way.———Loosely influenced by Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit different than what I usually post, a bit darker, but I’m incredibly stoked to tell this story. It’s my first Alternate Universe fic, as well as my first longfic.

_ “Oh how shall a sparrow fly _

_ Or have the heart to sing? _

_ If all she can do is cry _

_ About her broken wings? _

_ Oh how shall a sparrow fly _

_ If weather sleeps in vain? _

_ Or keep her feathers dry _

_ Under clouds of death and rain?” _

_ _ \- “How Shall A Sparrow Fly” Ryan Bingham _ _

* * *

“Pietro, wait, we don’t know what might be in there.”

“And we’ll never know if we don’t go inside, sis,” Pietro called back at her, still jogging ahead of her towards the little wooden cabin. “There might be food or water in there. I don’t know about you, but I’m not having canned beets for dinner again.”

“Pietro, please, just slow down for a second,” she pleaded and to her surprise, he listened. With an exaggerated groan, he stopped at the side of the road and waited for her to catch up to him. 

“Wanda, it’s fine. I don’t think anyone’s been out here.”

“You don’t know that. There could be someone living in there and they might be dangerous.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere and we haven’t seen anyone in weeks.”

“That’s exactly what I mean. We have to be careful out here,” Wanda said. Secluded places often attracted the marauders, those who were desperate enough to abandon any morals they may have had and cross that line to get whatever they wanted. Desperate people made dangerous people. “You don’t even have the gun.”

“Of course, I do…” His voice faltered as he patted the sides of his backpack, only to find that their revolver wasn’t there. He rolled his eyes and shot her an accusing look. “Oh, very funny. When did you take it?”

"A few days ago."

Pietro ran a hand down his face. "Come on. Just give it to me," he said. "I promise I'll protect you. We probably won't even need it."

Wanda sighed, shaking her head. Deep down, she knew there was no getting through to him. Once Pietro set his mind to something, no one could do anything to stop him, not even her. "Promise me you’ll be careful?"

He nodded. "Of course I will. You worry too much."

"I don't think I worry enough," she said under her breath. Their parents had died before the Catastrophe and when the world went to hell, Pietro was all she had left. They depended on each other to survive and the thought of losing him terrified her. 

Setting her backpack on the dusty ground, she pulled the small revolver from the side pocket. “We only have three bullets left.”

“And that’s more than enough for now,” Pietro said as he took the gun from her hand and tucked it into his coat. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” 

“I hope you're right.”

The dust-covered leaves crinkled underneath their feet as they made their way to the cabin. Pietro walked a considerable distance ahead of Wanda, but not far enough to leave her behind. 

A pit in her stomach formed, for a reason she couldn’t seem to place, as they approached the building. Something about it just didn’t feel… right. The windows had been boarded up, although some of the pieces of wood had fallen from their place. She shivered when the wind blew and the house let out a soft creak. It had to have been abandoned soon after the Catastrophe happened.

Pietro went first, leaning against the wall beside the door while Wanda took the other side. Taking a deep breath, he held up the hand that wasn’t occupied with the weapon and began to count down with three fingers. Three. Two. One.

He tried the door, pushing it open, peeking in from around the corner. “Is anybody home?” he called.

No answer. 

Wanda glanced at Pietro, who simply shrugged at her before she turned to look inside, holding her breath. 

The room seemed even smaller on the inside than it did on the outside. And it definitely had been abandoned a long time ago if the well-made bed sitting close to the eastern wall said anything. An empty set of table and chairs were crowded across from it. The scent of smoke from burned firewood filled her nose as she took a tentative step inside, with Pietro following close behind. 

"See?" he said quietly as he pushed the door shut, "I told you no one was here." 

Wanda chose not to say anything and walked further inside, focusing on the cabinets in the corner of the room that looked like a kitchen. Beams of sunlight peeked through the cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the house in a pale light.

"Do you need the flashlight?" Pietro asked, setting his bag and the revolver down on the table. 

"No, we should save the batteries," she said. "There's enough light for now."

“Well, don’t keep me waiting. Is there anything in there?”

“A can of tomatoes in this one,” Wanda said as she opened the cabinets one by one, “and a box of crackers.”

“Is that it?” Disappointment colored his voice. 

She nodded once she pulled the last cabinet open, only to find it bare and empty, cobwebs taking the place of where food should have been. “There’s a trunk by the bed, why don’t you check in there?”

The tomatoes and the crackers were a miracle on their own. Most prepackaged foods had been picked over within the first few weeks of the Catastrophe. People were starving. Then, and even more so now.

“Wanda,” Pietro said. “Come here.”

Wanda arched an eyebrow at him, placing the box and can on the table. “What is it?” 

“Just come here.”

Pietro stood frozen, staring at the contents of the chest. When she made her way to stand next to him, she understood why he was staring. Various near-pristine canned goods sat stacked in the box. Corn, beans, soups. Filled to the brim, just waiting to be taken. He huffed out an incredulous laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Holy shit." 

Wanda reached down and took two of the cans on top, rotating them in her hands. The wide smile that broke out Pietro's face was contagious and she found herself smiling too. He grabbed a can from her and sat down at the table. She followed, taking the spot across from him. He pulled his pocket knife from inside his coat and carefully cut the tops of the aluminum cans open. 

"Go on, then." Wanda said as she took a spoonful from her can, looking at Pietro expectantly. The smirk on his face told her everything. He hadn't even started eating yet.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Say, 'I told you so.'"

"Alright," he laughed, "I—"

A loud bang against the door interrupted him. Pietro shot up from his seat as he whipped around to face it, holding their gun behind his back. More insistent knocks followed before the room fell silent.

"Get back," he whispered, reaching behind him and pushing her away, never breaking line of sight with the door. Wanda gasped as the knob began to shake, partially turning left and right with sharp clicks. 

"Pietro—" The door burst open before she could get any words out, swinging and hitting the wall. 

A tall man stood in the entryway. Ash was smeared across his face, leaving dark patterns as if it were face paint you would get at an amusement park. He had a crazed look in his eye as he pointed a pistol of his own in their direction.

"Who the hell are you?" Pietro snarled, moving so that he stood in front of Wanda.

The man leered at them, his lips twisting into a chilling grin. “That is unimportant,” he said, voice flat without inflection. “Know that I do Ultron’s bidding.”

Pietro cocked his head at him and gripped the gun tighter behind him. “What the hell does that mean?” 

Silence. 

Wanda stepped in before Pietro’s temper got the better of him, and by his clenched jaw, she knew his patience was already running thin.

“Is this your home?” she asked calmly, attempting to defuse the situation. “My brother and I were only looking for supplies, maybe a place to stay for the night, you must understand. We’ll leave if we’re intruding.”

The man looked at her and shook his head. “You don’t understand, do you, girl?” He let out a low laugh as if he was mocking her for missing a joke. “You are impure and you must be baptized in the name of Ultron.”

Instead of asking what he meant by baptized, she asked, “who is Ultron?”

He laughed again. “He is the Prophet. The King,” he paused, raking his gaze over them. “We are all Ultron, don’t you see?” His eyes turned hard, glaring. “No, of course not. You are blind.”

"Look, man," Pietro said. "Like my sister said, we'll go if this place is yours and we won't take anything. There's no need for anyone to get hurt."

"We don't want any trouble," Wanda said. The look in the man's eye unnerved her, sending prickles of fear up her spine and her heart pounded in her chest.

He lowered his gun to his side and stood there, contemplating, as if he was weighing his options. "No," he said with a tone of finality, a hard edge in his voice. "You must be cleansed."

"Wanda, get down!" Pietro shouted when the man raised his gun as quickly as he had lowered it. Time slowed as Pietro pulled the gun out from behind his back and fired. 

_ BANG. _

_ BANG. _

_ BANG. _

The shots crackled through the air, a deafening sound. Wanda stood frozen, helpless, watching as the events unfolded. Her breath caught in her throat as if she had the wind knocked out of her. All could do was stand idle as her world fell apart.

The man in the doorway went down on his knees. His gun clattered to the ground. Two small, dark red circles formed in his center, slowly spreading across his shirt. And then, Pietro staggered backwards, falling into his chair.

"Pietro," she whispered, snapping out of her trance and rushing to his side. Blood flowed down his chest and his arm, dripping onto the wooden floor. “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

"Didn't see that coming," Pietro said, giving her a weak smile that ended in a grimace. "Did… did I get him?" 

"Yes, yes, you got him." Wanda nodded as her hand came up to put pressure on his wound, frantically trying to stop the bleeding, the red staining her hand. He grunted in pain. She reached up and pulled his backpack off of the table. "Bandages. Where did you put the bandages?"

Pietro seized her hand in his. "Don't," he murmured, "just save them."

"What do you mean? I have to stop the bleeding. Tell me where they are, Pietro. I can fix this, just—”

"Wanda, stop," he said. "It's alright, you have to let me go."

“Pietro, please,” she pleaded as tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t lose him. Her hand moved to cradle his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I can’t do this without you.” 

“You can, you're strong, Wanda.” Pietro coughed violently, his breathing becoming labored. He glanced at the table where the forgotten can of beans sat and shook his head, the corners of his mouth upturning. “Didn’t even get to eat my damn beans.”

His eyes fell closed and he went limp, the warmth of life fading away.

"No no no, Pietro," Wanda whispered, voice breaking, "don’t go." She pulled him close, burying her face in his neck. Her brother was gone, stolen from her. 

Trembling, Wanda stood. Sorrow replaced with an intense, burning rage. She pressed a kiss on the top of Pietro's head and picked their gun off of the ground. 

The man wasn't in the doorway. A dark red trail stained the dust on the road, towards the right of the cabin and she followed it outside. He hadn't made it far. Only a few feet down the street, still trying to drag himself away. As she approached him, he collapsed, his arms giving out. He turned himself over, groaning in pain. Still, the man gave her a truly sinister smile.

"You took him from me," Wanda said, deathly calm. 

"He has been freed," the man said in a strangled voice. 

Wanda dug her nails into her palm, clutching the gun in a white-knuckled grip. She raised it at him with a shaking hand. Their last bullet. The shot echoed throughout the trees, sending birds flying and cawing. Blood pooled under the man and the dam broke, her tears beginning to fall freely. 

"And so have you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback, thoughts, and comments are extremely appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and have a good day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Vision's POV.

“Steve’s sending you out again?”

Vision nodded, zipping up his backpack. Several days’ worth of rations, water, camping equipment—the whole works. Sam was leaned up against the doorframe, regarding him with a careful curiosity. “Actually, not the Captain this time. I am going on my own accord.”

Captain Steve Rogers—a good man with a solid set of unyielding morals and a leader, admirable to anyone. Vision met him a few weeks after the Catastrophe happened. The former soldier had helped him, given him a place to stay. He told Vision that he was a part of a community in upstate New York run by S.H.I.E.L.D, a private government agency that Vision had heard of prior to the end of the world.

In return, Vision stuck around and helped Steve fight his good fight.

Sam cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at him. “Which way are you headed? I’m thinking of going out too. Thought we might be able to find more folks if we split up.”

“A few miles southwest,” Vision said. “No one has been that way in a while.”

“Sounds good,” Sam said as he walked over and pulled his own bag off of the wall hanger. “How long are you going for?”

“A day or so. Three, at most.”

Truth be told, Vision enjoyed the long walks. That was one of the reasons he liked going out to recruit survivors, aside from him genuinely wanting to help whomever he could. The walks cleared his mind, his worries melted away for a while, until he returned back to the camp. 

“Alright,” Sam said, “stay safe out there.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and I’ll let Steve and everyone know where you are,” Sam said, grinning, “nearly gave us a heart attack the last time you left without saying anything.”

“My apologies,” Vision chuckled. Admittedly, there were times where he would slip out of camp unannounced, times where he needed to get away for a bit. Of course, he always returned. “Thank you, Sam.”

—

Seeing the abandoned cars that lined the streets was a despairing reminder of all of those who were lost in the Catastrophe. Occasionally, he’d come across some that had their doors and trunks left ajar with forgotten, ash-covered belongings strewn about. Vision wondered where the people that the cars belonged to ended up. If they had gotten lucky as he did and survived, found a safe place to hold out. Then, he'd just sigh and kept moving.

Vision stuck to the side of the road as he passed through a small neighborhood, no more than eight or nine homes. Broken glass from the windows of houses that weren’t boarded up littered the ground. He had to maneuver over the bent or completely fallen over mailboxes. 

After the neighborhood, there was nothing, an empty stretch of interstate. Just trees and a long, open road. And so, he walked and walked, until his stomach growled and his throat was dry. Only then did he stop, clearing the ash from the roadside with his foot before he sat down for a moment to refuel. 

He stopped again when he found a grisly scene once a small cabin eventually came into view. As he got closer, he saw a young woman sitting leaned up at the door of the wooden house, hugging her knees to her chest. Part of the road was painted with a streak of what could have only been blood, leading to a body in the middle of the road.

In the back of his mind, Vision knew that she could have been dangerous, but he approached her anyway, taking slow, careful steps as not to startle her. To be honest, he never really knew what kind of reaction he would get when he came up to people that seemed to be in need. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he had been told to “keep walking” or even attacked and shot at.

“Are you alright, miss?” he asked, maintaining a safe distance. The woman’s head shot up, a gasp leaving her lips as she scrambled away from him. Vision froze as she raised a gun her trembling hands, pointing it at his chest. He had failed to see it. 

His heart pounded in his chest as he analyzed the situation, looking for a way to defuse it. The poor girl looked absolutely terrified. Her wide eyes were red as if she had been crying, alarm written all over her expression. Guilt for scaring her coursed through his being.

He swallowed. Slowly, he raised his hands above his head, keeping them open, to show her that he wasn’t a threat. “I apologize for scaring you, miss. I mean you no harm,” he said in a calm voice, “I only wish to help, if I can.”

The girl hesitated, eyeing him cautiously, though she still kept her gun aimed at him in a rigid hold. He had gotten her attention, at least. 

”I am unarmed,” Vision said, “I can set my bag down, if you would prefer.”

Once she nodded, he slowly shouldered his backpack off and tossed it away from him.

“My name is Vision,” he offered, ignoring at the strange look she gave him and focused on keeping her from pulling the trigger. “I'm from a community a little ways up north. I noticed that you were alone from afar. Please, if you wouldn’t mind lowering the gun, we could talk more. I'm not going to hurt you.”

Vision exhaled a sigh of relief when she did lower the weapon, setting it to her side. Still, she watched his every move with a weary expression. 

"If you need a place to stay, you can come back with me. It's no more than a day's walk from here and my friends would welcome you. Of course, you may decline. I know that you have no reason to trust me, but—"

“I have to bury him,” the girl murmured, a soft accent tinting her words. 

Vision stopped, his eyes followed the trail of blood to the man laying in the road. “Him?” he asked.

She shook her head and her eyes flashed angrily. “That monster killed him,” she said, her lip trembling, “he killed my brother.”

Vision’s heart dropped and he winced. The Catastrophe had truly brought the worst out in people. He’d heard many tales of pain and misfortune from the people he had come across, enough to become desensitized to a certain degree, but the sheer sadness in her voice cut through his heart like a knife. “Where is your brother?” he asked gently. “Is he inside?” 

A tear rolled down her cheek, but her red-stained hand came up to wipe it away as soon as it fell from her eye. Then, she nodded, taking in a deep, shaky breath. 

He made for the door, fully prepared to help her, but she caught his wrist, stopping him. ”It has to be me,” she said as she rose up from the ground on shaky legs. Vision kept his mouth closed and backed away, giving her space.

An empty plot sat next to the old cabin, covered in a thin layer of dust, although the ground looked soft, easy to dig. He watched her walk over to the plot and fall to her knees. Only using her hands, she tried to dig her fingers into the earth, scraping at the dirt and grass. She pulled at the roots of the grass and they broke with little snaps. Vision almost had to look away from the pitiful sight. It was difficult to watch. 

“Miss—”

“It has to be me,” she repeated, her voice breaking. She tried to dig at the ground again, barely making a dent in the cold dirt. A tear fell from her eyes, the bead of water dissolving into the ash. Another followed. And then, another. Before he could step in, she broke down, sob after sob racking her small frame. 

Vision knelt down next to her, and tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t want to invade her space, after all, at such a time where she was so vulnerable, but he felt he had to offer at least a modicum of comfort, if she would allow it. She looked at him before her expression contorted into one of pure sorrow and she let herself fall against him. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around her as she wept into his neck, the warm tears soaking the collar of his shirt, not that he minded. The woman was hurting, and he would do his best to help. 

Vision rubbed a hand up and down her back, trying his best to calm her. “It’s alright, miss, you’re alright,” he whispered, “I know it hurts.” 

He almost didn’t know what to do as she clung to him, refusing to let go. It was not what he had expected from her, to trust him with seeing her in such a state. 

Once the girl started to calm and her crying subsided, she pulled away from him and looked at the ground. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, voice hoarse.

Vision nearly did a double-take. She was sorry? He frowned as she worried her lip, still not looking him in the eye. Did she think that he would not understand? “You have nothing to apologize for,” he told her firmly. 

As they sat there, the wind had started to pick up, some of the dust blowing away. In the sky, dark clouds were rolling in from the west.

“I do not mean to rush you, or take this away from you, however, I believe it would be best if I helped you. It appears that it’s going to storm soon," Vision continued as he stood, “I have a spade in my bag that I use to set up camp, if you’ll allow me to go and retrieve it." 

The girl gave a resigned nod.

Vision carried his bag over to where she sat, removing his coat and pushing his sleeves up. She watched him silently. He gave her one last look before he drove the shovel into the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback, thoughts, and comments are extremely appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and have a good day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and Vision start the walk back to his camp, while getting to know more about each other along the way.

The man, _ Vision _, he called himself, led Wanda back to his camp. She didn't trust him in the slightest. Kindness was a rarity and when it was given, it was impossible not to meet it with suspicion. 

Vision was the one who dug Pietro a grave, a final resting place. He told her that he would take care of everything, that she should rest and was nothing less than respectful to her.

But, he could have been anyone, posturing as a gentleman with something dangerous hiding underneath the elaborate facade. 

And, maybe, that's why she went with him.

At the beginning of the day, she was joking with her brother and within a few hours into the afternoon, he was gone. And it _hurt_. A dull, throbbing pain deep in her heart that numbed the rest of her senses. She felt vibrations from each step as she followed after Vision, and that was it. Maybe she wanted him to be dangerous, _because_ it hurt.

Despite that, she had the distinct feeling that he was exactly the type of man he made himself out to be, with no intention of hurting her, only wanting to help. 

They walked along the road in silence, through the endless forest until they came across a small clearing and a bridge over a stream. Beneath, the water rushed and slammed against the rocks. The tops of the trees swayed back and forth under the force of the winds, branches snapping and falling to the ground. 

“There’s a neighborhood not too far from here,” Vision said after they had passed over the bridge. “The houses are fairly intact, all things considering. We can stop there in case the storm gets too bad.”

Wanda only nodded in fear of falling apart in front of him again as soon as she opened her mouth. She hadn’t looked him in the eye since. Ashamed that she broke down in front of someone she didn't know. Afraid of the disapproval she might find in his eyes. For not being strong enough to bury her own brother. A complete stranger had to do it instead. She hated that she couldn't do it. Pietro was wrong—she was weak. 

—

By the time they reached the neighborhood Vision mentioned, the wind had strengthened and the sky now had a greenish tint to it as more clouds formed. She flinched when it thundered, a loud, booming noise. Raindrops fell from the sky, slow at first, a soft pitter-patter against the road, not matching the sound that came before it. 

Storms since the Catastrophe had always been worse, more severe. They had harsher winds and longer, harder rains that sometimes lasted for weeks. 

Vision brought her to the first house in the neighborhood. The porch had a swing, though half of it dangled as one of the chains that held it up was broken. Paint peeled from the paneling, leaving a dirty gray color in its place and the windows had been crudely boarded up, done in a rush. 

He hurried ahead of her and opened the door.

"Miss, you can go ahead and make yourself comfortable," Vision said, setting his bag down on the floor inside the house. "I'm going to try to gather some wood for a fire before the rain ruins it all. Will you be alright here?"

"I'll be fine," she murmured.

"I won't be gone long. No more than ten minutes." Vision closed the door behind him with a slight click, leaving her alone to herself with so much time to think about what happened, about how she had failed and how she couldn't save Pietro. 

What a horrifying thought.

To keep her mind occupied, she explored the house. Three rooms on the first floor, four on the second. A kitchen split with a dining room, a living room, and the entryway that had led to a staircase. 

A sheet of collected dust covered the railing of the stairway. With each step she took upward, the stairs beneath her let out a soft creak. It led to a short hallway, stretching only a few feet.

The first room at the top of the steps was a bathroom. The shower curtain had fallen to the ground and the cabinets under the sink were ajar and empty. She tried the knob of the sink, twisting it to the left and, surprisingly, a steady stream of water poured from the faucet. 

Wanda stared at her reflection in the cracked glass of the mirror. A streak of blood was smeared across her cheek and her hands were still stained with her brother’s blood. She let out a shaky breath and cupped one of her bloodied hands underneath the stream and wiped at the streak on her face fastidiously until it washed away, the bottom of the sink turning a light red.

The stream sputtered once, then twice, before it slowed to a drip. Then, nothing. She sighed and turned the knob back and moved on to the next room across from the bathroom. 

The walls were painted in a sky blue color. Two beds sat on opposite sides of the room, both pushed against the wall and into the corners. A forgotten teddy bear laid upside down on its head by the bed on the right. 

Then, she saw it. 

A framed photograph of a young boy and girl, smiling ear to ear as they stood in front of a roller coaster. The bright, multicolored lights were a stark contrast to the pitch-black sky. Their hair was tousled like they had just gotten off of the ride. 

From time to time, she and Pietro would sneak into the traveling fair that visited their hometown. They weren’t able to scrape together enough money to pay to get in, so they stuck to the shadows and waited for an opportunity to slip in. 

Pietro always liked the roller coasters. Wanda never could wrap her head around the idea, yet he inevitably found a way to drag her onto one. 

_ “Come on, Wanda! You’ll have fun, I promise,” _he would say.

She’d pretend to hate it, but she’d end up laughing and enjoying herself, though she would never admit it.

Downstairs, she heard the door open, pulling her out of the memory. Briefly, she wondered if the boy and the girl in the picture had made it. If they were safe, alive with their parents. She shook her head and put the picture back down, trying to ignore a renewed wave of melancholy that flow through her.

Vision was holding a bundle of sticks and broken branches in his arms when she came down the stairs. His mouth was set into a slight frown as his eyebrows knit together, however, when he saw her, he visibly relaxed.

"We will have to hold out here for the night," Vision said, piling the wood against the wall. "It looks like the storm is moving fairly quickly. It's stopped raining, though the wind is still strong. I believe it'll be clear by morning. Until then, I’ll start putting together a fire.”

“Is there anything that I can do to help?” Wanda asked quietly. 

“I can handle it, miss, you don’t have to do anything."

“Please?” She needed the distraction. Anything to keep her mind off of what she had lost.

He cocked his head at her and sighed. “If you insist," he said, "I could use some help with piling some of the wood on the porch. If you could do that, I can set up a tarp that should, hopefully, catch the wind and keep it from blowing the fire out. But, you really don't need—"

"I can do it," she said. 

"Great," he said. "Thank you."

Vision opened his bag, and sure enough, took out a neatly folded black tarp. It appeared to be well-used by the number of light scratches that matter the surface of it. He ripped a corner of the tarp off and opened the door.

She grabbed some of the sticks and went out the door that he held open for her, following behind. The tarp had three small ringlets along the edge of it. When Vision unfolded it, at his height, he easily reached up and slipped the rings over the hooks that were partially holding the porch swing up. Part of the tarp still dragged the ground, so he grabbed two of the bricks that were leaned against the house and anchored it down. She made a small pile with the wood in the middle of the porch.

Wanda leaned against the wall next to the door as Vision pulled a lighter seemingly out of nowhere and lit the piece of torn tarp on fire. He dropped it into the pile once some of the wood caught the flames. She slid down the wall and sat against it.

Using one of the sturdier branches, Vision poked smaller pieces of wood into the fire. It burned brighter and the flames grew slightly higher. He took a seat on the other side of the fire.

"Wanda,” she said softly as she stared into the dancing flames.

Vision looked up at her. “I’m sorry?”

“My name. It’s Wanda. I never told you.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well, it's nice to meet you, Wanda.”

“Your name isn’t really ‘Vision,’ is it?”

The corner of his mouth upturned in the orange light. “No,” he admitted, “it isn’t. However, my friends call me Vision.” 

And that was all he offered. The fire crackled, the only sound cutting through the awkward silence that fell over them.

Before she could ask him what that meant, he broke the silence and changed the subject. “I came to the States about a year before the world ended. My brother moved to New York before me, so I followed him after our parents passed.”

“Is your brother at your camp?” she asked slowly.

"He was, but…" Vision sighed and looked away, twisting the stick in his hand before he tossed it into the flames, "well, he's not around anymore.”

"I'm sorry." 

“Don’t be,” he said under his breath, but it was loud enough for her to catch it. 

Wanda tilted her head at him, though she didn’t press him any further. The way he said it was so matter of fact. 

Vision cleared his throat. “Right, then.” He abruptly stood and gave her a rather unconvincing smile. “You must be starving. I brought along plenty of rations and I would be more than happy to share.”

“I’m not hungry.” She should have been, she'd barely gotten a bite in before... 

Her appetite had long since dissipated. Even if she felt the hunger, she doubted her ability to stomach anything. 

"Are you certain? You really ought to eat."

"I'm fine," she said, harsher than she meant to. He was only trying to help. She took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that. Thank you for asking, but I'm not hungry right now."

To her relief, Vision didn't seem phased by her shortness with him. "It's quite alright, miss. I understand." 

He stepped inside the house and returned with his backpack, leaning it against the house once he pulled a can and a wrinkled Ziploc bag from it. After he took his seat by the fire again, he opened the bag. A dried food that was so dull in color, she wondered if it had any taste. He wordlessly set the can down and nudged it closer to her.

“Why are you helping me?” Wanda asked. 

“Well, everyone needs help sometimes and I think that the world has been hurt enough,” he said slowly, “I’m in a position to provide aid, so I do. It’s the least I can do.”

A more comfortable silence fell over them as he ate, the bag crinkling every time he pulled out a chunk of the dried food. He held out a piece to her and smiled when she leaned over and took it from him. She took a small bite of what turned out to be bland beef jerky and listened to the quiet roar of the crickets and cicadas hiding amongst the trees. The wind occasionally whipped at the tarp, making it blow inward on the porch. 

As Wanda watched the flames dance, her eyelids started to drift closed. The heaviness of exhaustion became stifling. She hid a small yawn behind her hand.

"Go on inside, miss, you should sleep," Vision said. "I'll keep watch."

She shook her head. "You aren't tired?"

“I’ll be fine,” he said, giving her a small smile. “Besides, I've always been a bit of an insomniac.” 

The smile faded as his expression sobered. “Rest,” he told her seriously, “I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

After another yawn worked its way up, she gave in and stood. "Okay."

"Good night, miss," Vision said, looking at her with a self-satisfied expression.

"Good night." If this did turn out to be a part of a malicious plan, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Wanda pushed open the door and found that a sleeping bag had been laid out in the corner of the entryway, away from the door. He must have anticipated this. She laid down and curled up on her side and stared at the wall before drifting into a restless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I'm doing my best to get on a more regular posting schedule.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and Vision make it to camp.

Wanda woke with a start, heaving out short, gasping breaths, drenched in a cold sweat. Her heart pounded against her rib cage like a drum. As she got her bearings, she realized that Vision was knelt across from her. His hand had been on her shoulder, gently shaking her, but he’d jerked it away when she jolted awake. 

“Hey, it’s alright, miss,” he said, holding his hands up in front of him, “everything's alright. I was only trying to wake you.”

Her hands came up to cover her face and she took in a deep breath, trying to calm her rattled nerves. 

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes," Wanda said, pulling herself from her hands to look at him again. “Yes. I'm okay."

“We should get moving,” Vision said, awkwardly, sounding apologetic, once she got her breathing under control. “I believe we are only a few miles out. We can make it by midday if we leave soon.”

His brow was furrowed when he looked at her, but he didn’t mention her reaction. She might have said that he seemed a little embarrassed by the slight redness of his cheeks. He looked like he wanted the situation to be over as soon as it started.

“Just... just give me a minute and I’ll be ready.”

“Of course, miss. I’ll just wait outside.” He left the door cracked, enough for a small beam of light to peek into the house.

Once he was gone, Wanda let her head fall back against the wall and let out a frustrated sigh. God, she was being ridiculous. Breaking down on the poor man, who she decided, was truly only trying to help her. Now, freaking out when she was woken up. She racked her brain, trying to remember what she had been dreaming about to have made her wake up so shaken. 

When her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace, Wanda did her best to roll up the sleeping bag as condensed as possible to save the space in Vision’s bag. Only one of the strings that were supposed to wrap around it was long enough to reach around the bundle. After she took one more deep breath and shouldered her backpack, she twisted the cold brass of the doorknob.

A blanket of fog covering the streets provided limited visibility when she opened the door with the sleeping bag in hand. The house on the other side of the road was barely visible, the collapsed porch the only part of it in clear view. A cool dampness lingered in the air, a remnant of the now-passed storm. Vision had already stamped out the fire on the porch and taken down the tarp he hung on the swing set, leaving the porch tidier than they found it. Well, as tidy as it could be, at least, compared to the rest of the neighborhood.

“All set, miss?” Vision said as he hurried to take the sleeping bag out of her arms.

“Yes.”

“I expect that we’ll make it a little past noon,” he said offhandedly, stepping off of the porch and taking the lead.

They were off, pushing forward down the road through the fog. As the morning went on, though, the fog began to dissipate, letting the sun shine through the clouds. The dull grayness of the world never faded, though. The skies remained its sickly gray color and the wind was never enough to blow away the ash that covered the streets and trees.

—

Six bent, broken mile markers later, Vision said, "we're not too far off now, miss. It's just down the road here."

The winding road disappeared into the forest, the remaining patch of light fog hiding what the road led to. Broken tree branches littered the street. The brown leaves that clung to the asphalt slid when she stepped on them, almost taking her down with them. 

They walked through the fog until the forest transitioned into an open field, the trees getting fewer and fewer as they went along. Wanda couldn't help the small gasp she let out when a massive building surrounded by a chain-link fence came into view. The gate looked to be reinforced with pieces of scrap metal that obstructed an outsider’s view of the ground level.

"This is your camp?" she asked incredulously. 

Vision rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face. "It is," he said, "though, I suppose that 'camp' is a bit of an understatement."

“Definitely an understatement.” 

She’d never seen anything like it, nor did she ever expect that she would see something as nice as this building was after the Catastrophe. To her surprise, the glass windows that top half of the building was composed of were intact, not a single scratch or crack. Overall, the building looked undisturbed, barely touched by the destruction that befell the rest of the world. If only Pietro had been there to see it.

Makeshift barricades sat in front of the gate and a red-headed woman stood behind them, holding a pistol in her hand, though she kept it pointed towards the ground. Vision walked ahead of Wanda, throwing a hand up to wave at the woman at the gate, who was already walking towards them as they approached. 

"We didn't expect to see you back so soon. It's unlike you, Vision,” the woman said with a smile, nodding at him. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Miss Romanov,” Vision said, “though I am surprised to see you on guard duty.”

The Romanov woman shrugged a shoulder, and with it, her necklace glinted in the light, shifting with the motion. It’s silver pendant was in the shape of a small hourglass. A symbol that Wanda recognized, but couldn’t place. “I’d rather be elsewhere, but no one was available to cover it. Sam isn’t back yet and Rhodey needs some more time to recover before he can get back to work.”

Vision grimaced. “I see.”

“I see you have someone new with you,” Romanov said to him, looking passed Vision to carefully study Wanda, regarding her with a gaze that felt like she was trying to figure out her whole life story just by looking at her. The intensity was enough to make her shift her eyes away to look at leaves at her feet like they were the most interesting thing in the world. "What's your name?"

“Wanda,” she replied, steeling herself enough to return the woman’s gaze. 

The woman smiled at her then, seemingly satisfied with her odd assessment. “Nice to meet you, Wanda. I’m Natasha, but you can call me Nat.”

Wanda gave her a nod before she shifted her gaze downward once again. 

“Perhaps we should move this inside,” Vision suggested, seemingly sensing her discomfort. “She’s had a long few days.”

“Of course,” Natasha said. She turned back to Wanda, “Vision will help you find a place to stay and get you settled in. The rest will want to meet you at some point.”

She holstered her pistol and unlocked the gate, removing the chains that held it closed. 

"Thank you, Natasha," Vision said.

“No problem.”

Natasha closed the gate behind them once Wanda followed Vision through the gateway. Tents were clustered in groups around the front lawn, if you could even call it that. It was more like someone put a camping ground in front of their home. A tent city. Some of the people sitting around campfires outside of their respective tents stopped what they were doing and stared at them when they passed by.

“If you'll follow me, miss, I know of a way that'll let us go in through the back,” Vision said as they neared the pristine building.

She arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?"

“I would understand that you may not be in the mood to meet new people right now. I’m afraid that my friends can be overwhelming at times and will want to bombard you with questions,” he explained. “It’s only a suggestion, you may say no.”

He had a point. With how physically and emotionally drained she felt, the last thing she wanted to do was talk to more people than she had to. 

“Lead the way, then.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, I know. I’m hoping to get the next one up in a day or so, though. And bear with me, more about what caused the Catastrophe will be revealed in the coming chapters.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda tries to settle into her new home, while struggling with questions of morality.

The inside of the building was almost as grand as the outside. Several paintings lined the walls and the lighting inside still functioned. When Vision led her to the back entrance, they passed a noisy machine that must have been a generator that kept the lights working. The back door that they entered through led them to a long hallway, that was lit, not overbearingly so, with fluorescent lights.

It was nice. And clean, for that matter. She was used to staying in dirty, old, abandoned buildings for only a few nights at a time, never staying in one place for too long. The tile flooring was void of the dust and grime that associated itself with everything on the outside world. And maybe that’s what it was. A bubble, an oasis, hidden away from the rest of the gloom and destruction. 

“What was this place?” Wanda asked, following him down the hallway.

“It was built by a private organization called S.H.I.E.L.D before, well, the world ended,” Vision said. “It was set to open only a few weeks before. I was told that it was supposed to be their new training and intelligence headquarters. But, that evidently did not happen.”

She had heard of S.H.I.E.L.D, the term was occasionally thrown around on the news before the Catastrophe, but she never bothered to pay attention to what it was.

“In response to the Catastrophe, it was opened to the public to provide aid to anyone that needs it,” he continued. “There was a small group of people on base at the time of the Catastrophe and you’ve already met Natasha. You’ll meet the rest once you feel up to it.”

"Right then, here we are," Vision said once they reached the end of the long hallway. He pushed the door open and motioned for her to go inside. "I know it’s not much, but it has the necessities."

Wanda took a tentative step inside. The room was empty, save for a bed, a window that made up half of the wall, and a desk, although it was missing a chair. Filled with grays and whites that didn’t seem that much different from the dullness of the outside world. The bareness of the room was the last thing she was worried about.

"Why are you letting me stay here?" 

Vision paused, tilting his head to the side. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I saw all of those people outside, in the tents," she said, gesturing towards the window. "Why wouldn't you give it to someone out there?"

She could see the gears turning in his mind as he fell silent for a moment, just looking at her. 

"We save the rooms for those who, well, don't have anything left," Vision said. "The people out there had their tents when they arrived here, so we ask them to use what they have in return for protection and food."

“Oh.” 

"There’s a restroom across the way there," he mentioned, motioning to the door. "We have running water if you should need it."

That caught her attention. "Running water?"

Vision let out a slight chuckle. "Yes, I was quite surprised about that myself when I first got here."

He clasped his hands in front of him. "Lunch will be ready within the hour, if you're hungry, but I'll understand if you're not."

She nodded, although she knew she was not going to take him up on the offer. The thought of eating made her nauseous and her appetite still hadn’t returned.

"I'll give you some time to yourself, then, miss," he said. "I should go and take over for Natasha for a bit. Dinner will be served around six, if you're feeling up to it by then."

"Okay."

"Will you be alright here?" Vision asked.

Wanda sat her backpack down on the floor, careful to keep the dirt on it from messing up the clean bed. "I'll be fine," she said.

"Alright then.” He moved to step outside. “I’ll be seeing you.”

"Vision?" she called out right before he closed the door.

He stopped in the doorway. "Yes, miss?" 

"Thank you. For helping me.” It wasn’t much, she didn’t have anything she could give him, but the least she could do was thank him. 

Vision smiled at her. "Of course, miss." He gently closed the door behind him and she was left to herself. She listened as his footsteps quieted as he descended down the hallway until there was silence. That was when she leaned against the door and let out a long, shaky breath, sliding down to sit on the floor.

The weight of the last day and a half flooded her mind in full force. The sadness, the rage, the helplessness… all of it. All of her actions, one by one. 

She’d killed a man—without hesitation. Picked up the cold steel of the gun, pointed it at his chest, and squeezed the trigger. She didn’t flinch when she did it. What exactly separated her from that man? She’d held the power of life and death in her hands, and yet, she did not pause to consider the implications. The man murdered her brother and she had ended his life for it. She’d killed a man. 

And that scared her. 

Wanda ran a hand through her hair and rested her forehead on her palm.

Eventually, she decided to take up on Vision's invitation. Gathering her strength, she stood, opened the door, and crossed the hallway to enter the bathroom. She flipped the light switch upwards and the bright lights sprung to life. 

Under the fluorescent lights, everything about her was illuminated by the harsh light. She winced when she saw how absolutely wrecked she looked in the mirror. From the dark circles under her eyes from the lack of meaningful sleep to the ash and dried blood caked up on her cheeks. Her hands never lost the redness and her edges of her coat sleeves were stained. She peeled the coat off and did her best to fold it neatly before setting it down on the edge of the counter. 

The water from the sink faucet didn’t shut off like it had in the neighborhood house. The stream ran constant and crystal clear until she held her hands underneath it again. She scrubbed the red away from her hands, watching as the stream turned a light pink. Then she washed the grime from her face.

Once she looked semi-presentable and no longer felt dirty, she dried her face and hands on the towel that was hanging up on the wall and flipped the light off. She grabbed her coat from the counter and crossed the hall back to the room.

Wanda closed the door behind her. She set the coat on the bed and splayed her hand across the gray bed sheets, enjoying the softness of it. When was the last time she felt something like this? The bed dipped under her weight as she sat down on the edge of it, facing the window. There was another window above the headboard, but it was too high up to see anything except for the clouded sky. 

A knock on the door startled Wanda, nearly flinching as her head whipped around to stare at the bedroom door, not moving to answer it. Partially because of what happened the last time she was caught on the other side of a closed door. 

Another, more insistent, knock followed when she stayed glued to her seat. A muffled voice came from the other side. "Wanda? It's Nat, we met at the gate. Could you open the door?"

Wanda let out a soft sigh of relief and stood from the bed and pulled the door open. Natasha smiled when she opened the door, holding a black plastic bag in her hand.

“Hey, kid, Vision told me where he left you. I noticed your bag seemed a little light,” she said, “I had some old clothes lying around, so you’re welcome to have them.”

“Oh.” Wanda couldn’t help but blink at her. “Um, thank you, but you really don’t have to.”

Natasha waved her off and pushed the bag into her hands anyway. “I don’t, but I want to help in anyway I can.”

Still, Wanda was stunned by the kind gesture. Were all of these people so nice?

“So, how are you settling in?” Natasha asked, adopting an overly casual tone that made her sound like she was about to lead into a big question.

“I have a room and a bed,” Wanda said. Two things she hadn’t had in a long time. “I’m grateful for that, at least.”

“That’s good,” Natasha said. “Well, I just wanted to come by to see if you needed anything. Is there something I can get you?”

Wanda shook her head. 

“Are you sure?”

"Thank you, I really do appreciate you for bringing this," Wanda said, slightly raising the bag up, "but, I'm fine." She started to close the door, but Natasha caught it with her foot before it shut, thudding against her shoe.

"Look, I know what happened," Natasha said, a gentle edge in her tone. Wanda froze. Vision told her? The last thing she wanted was for others to know.

“I know what you’re thinking, so before you ask, I made Vision tell me.” A wry smile flickered across her face before disappearing. “He tried to resist, but I know how to make people talk.”

Wanda narrowed her eyes at the woman who was clearly playing at something. “Why did you want to know?”

“Because I could tell that you were trying to hide your pain.”

A perceptive woman.

"If you need to talk about it, I'm here. Or better yet, we have a doctor here. A therapist,” Natasha continued. “He's kind of an ass, but he's good at his job. I've experienced my fair share of grief and loss and believe me, it's not good to bottle it up."

Wanda looked at her skeptically. There was no reason for this woman to care about her so much. 

“It’ll just stay between you and me,” Natasha said reassuringly. “There won’t be any judgement from me.”

There was something distinctly trustworthy about the woman, she radiated a maternal warmth that made Wanda believe in her words.

"I killed the man that did it," Wanda murmured as her eyes fixed themselves on the ground. She wasn’t entirely sure why she decided to tell Natasha, who she knew even less about than she did Vision, but she needed to say it out loud. However, she immediately regretted saying anything at all, wincing as Natasha stiffened briefly as she stood there in the doorway.

“How about I come inside?” Natasha said.

Wanda nodded, internally letting out a breath, and pulled the door open wider. She set the bag Natasha had given her on the floor next to her backpack before sitting on the bed again. Natasha shut the door behind her and sat on the desk, crossing her arms. 

“I killed that man and I don’t feel bad about doing it. I should, but I don’t. I’m just numb,” Wanda said. “That makes me just as bad as him.”

“It doesn’t,” Natasha said sharply. “I know exactly how you’re feeling. I used to feel the same way.”

“What makes you say that?”

Natasha sighed and gave her a sad smile. “Let’s just say that I have more red in my ledger than anyone in this entire building.” Her hand came up to her necklace, stroking the little hourglass on the chain between her thumb and index finger, an unconscious gesture. 

“What changed?” 

“I found a friend,” Natasha said, almost wistfully as she looked out the window, lost in thought. “Well, he found me and he saved me from myself. It’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay.” She shook her head, like she was shaking whatever she was thinking off. Releasing the necklace, she moved from the desk to sit next to Wanda. 

“The difference between you and that man is that what you did was in self-defense,” Natasha said. “There’s a difference in that on its own because it‘s justifiable.”

Wanda wanted to believe that. Desperately. “I don’t know how to deal with this,” she whispered. 

Natasha reached out and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, kid,” she said. “You already have friends here who are willing to help.”

Wanda only shrugged and looked away. It didn’t feel like it. Though she appreciated Natasha’s efforts to convince her otherwise, it was hard to believe. There were no words to describe how lost she felt. At this point, she had no one. She’d barely known Vision for a day, and she semi-trusted him. Even though Natasha was sitting there and offering her friendship, Wanda couldn’t help how alone she felt. The loss of her brother left an unyielding emptiness in her heart.

After a light squeeze on Wanda’s shoulder, Natasha stood again. “Trust me, talking with our doctor will help you. It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow, or even the next day, but sometime soon.”

“I’ll think about it.” The idea of sitting in a stuffy room with another stranger poking and prodding at her with an onslaught of questions about her feelings did not sound ideal. But, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew Natasha was right.

“Good,” Natasha said. “Listen, I’ve got some things I need to deal with. If there’s anything you need or you just want to talk, come and find me.”

Wanda nodded. “Thank you.”

Natasha sent her another sympathetic smile. “Anytime.” 

She closed the door and the silence returned to the room. Wanda didn’t know if she would ever move past it. She felt like she was stuck in a hole. And as alone as she felt and as unlikely as it seemed, she hoped that she would find a friend like Natasha had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a bit behind with the chaotic Thanksgiving week—I hope that those who celebrated had a nice time. I swear that next chapter will actually have more about what happened... Thank you for being patient.
> 
> Thanks for reading and have a great day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda remembers the moments leading up to the end of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to a family member who passed away earlier this week.

After Natasha left, Wanda got up and slightly opened the door, after deciding that the room felt a little too claustrophobic with it completely shut. She rummaged through the plastic bag that Nat had left. There was a dark red jacket that fit her, so she wore that in place of the dirty coat she had been wearing.

Around six o'clock, Wanda still resided in her room. As she expected, she couldn't work up an appetite and didn't bother going to lunch. No one came by her room, which she appreciated because that meant Natasha kept her word and didn’t tell anyone else where she was. Thirty minutes past the hour, though, came a soft knock on the cracked door and a familiar voice followed with it. "It's just me, miss." 

Wanda got up from her seat on the bed, setting the bag aside, and pulled the door open wider. 

"I see that Natasha visited," he said, mentioning her new attire. 

"She did."

Vision looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. "I apologize for giving you away earlier. I know you didn't want to see anyone."

"It's fine, Vision," Wanda said. "We... we had a nice talk."

"That's good.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow as he stood there for a moment, not speaking. "Is there something you needed?"

"Ah, right," Vision said, shaking his head as if he’d just remembered he was talking to her. "I didn't see you at dinner and I just wanted to make sure that you hadn't forgotten."

"I didn't forget," Wanda said. She actually was getting hungry, for the first time in the last day and a half. Her stomach growled a few times as she was going through her belongings. "I just didn’t think that I would make for good company." 

"I see, but you must be hungry," he said. "Would you like me to bring you something? You wouldn't have to go out if you'd rather not."

“Thank you, but I should be able to do something for myself.”

“It’d be no trouble, really. I’m more than happy to.”

She shifted. “Okay.”

“Great. I’ll be right back.”

And he was, he couldn’t have been gone longer than five minutes. When he returned, he knocked on the door again, this time, holding two bowls in his hands.

“All we had was stew tonight,” Vision said, handing one of the bowls to her, wisps of steam rising from it. “It uses less resources and it keeps for a few days. This was made tonight though.”

“Thanks,” she said with a weak smile as she took the warm ceramic from his hand. “Is that bowl yours?”

Vision looked down at the other bowl he held. “It is, actually. I didn’t eat with everyone else, so I was planning to eat it back in my room.”

"Why didn't you eat earlier?"

Realization hit her when Vision averted his gaze and shrugged noncommittally.

“Were you waiting for me?”

He nodded, not looking her in the eye. "I thought you might have wanted someone familiar to eat with. I shouldn’t have presumed."

“I’m sorry,” Wanda said, “I should’ve told you.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I kept you from eating.”

“It was my decision,” he said reassuringly. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. Have a good night, miss.”

“You too,” she said softly, watching as he descended down the hallway. Before he got halfway down the hall, she called for him. “Vision?” 

He stopped in his tracks and turned around.

“You can still eat with me if you want.”

“Oh, no, miss, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be,” she said, “I don’t really want to be alone right now, so I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Vision hesitated, regarding her skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

He followed her inside. The sun bathed the room in a warm light as it slowly lowered past the trees.

“You can sit on the bed,” Wanda said, “there’s nothing else to sit on.”

“I’ll see if I can find you a chair for this,” Vision said, running his hand along the wooden desk. “I’m not quite sure what happened to it.”

“You don’t have to do that. What you’ve already given me is more than enough.”

He waved her off. “Nonsense. Every desk needs a chair. It’ll be no problem to get you one.”

They sat on opposite ends of the bed, a few feet apart, quietly eating their respective meals. The stew had some sort of meat that she couldn’t identify right away along with chopped up carrots, celery, and potatoes. And it tasted fresh. Actual, fresh vegetables. Wanda couldn’t remember the last time she had fresh food. It was a revelation.

As they ate, the room fell into an odd silence. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable either. She couldn’t find the words to start a conversation. Small talk didn’t seem appropriate, not right now, at least. Vision seemed to be at a loss too. Sometimes he would glance up from his food at her and give a small smile before glancing away whenever she caught him looking.

“What do you think happened?” 

Vision looked at her blankly, the corners of his mouth downturning.

“To the world,” she clarified. “I mean, you remember that day, don’t you? One moment everything was okay and then, in the next…”

_ Wanda’s head snapped up from her laptop as Pietro burst through the front door, eyes wide and out of breath. He let out a relieved sigh when he saw her seated on the couch of their dingy apartment and clutched at his chest as he tried to catch his breath. "Thank God, you're alright," he said between pants, mainly to himself. _

_ “Pietro, what’s wrong? Of course I'm alright, why wouldn't I be?” Wanda asked, startled from his sudden entry. “Are you alright?” _

_ “I'm fine. Just turn on the news,” he got out in a rush. _

_ “What?” _

_ “Just turn it on!” _

_ Wanda arched an eyebrow at him, but complied, setting her laptop and notes for the paper she was working on to the side. It had to be important. She hadn’t seen Pietro so rattled in a very long time. Grabbing the remote, she pressed the little red power button and the television turned on to some movie that it'd been left on. _

_ “The news, Wanda, the news.” _

_ “I know, I know, just give me a second.” _

_ She changed the channel and was met with a frantic news anchor. His sleeves were rolled up his arms and his hair was unkempt, falling into his face as he spoke rapidly. “—cago, New York City, Los Angeles, Atlanta, and Washington D.C. are reported to have devastating seismic activity and damage,” the anchorman said. “To those who are just joining us, we are receiving unconfirmed reports of catastrophic damage taking place across the United States. We are currently working to determine the cause. We're waiting to go live with Karen Page in the District of Columbia.” _

_ “Oh my god,” Wanda whispered. “New York? Pietro, what happened?” _

_ Pietro ran a hand through the hair and began pacing back and forth across the floor. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” he said, struggling to find the words as he held his head in his hands. “I was at the store and all of a sudden there was this... this loud boom. Off in the distance, or somewhere. I don’t know. I got here as fast as I could.” _

_ His attention refocused on the television. He stopped pacing and wordlessly pointed at the screen. He sat down next to her, watching in horror. _

_ Live aerial footage of a city was being shown in the upper left corner of the screen. Dark puffs of smoke billowed from the buildings. Some were half-collapsed, their steel structuring the only thing left standing next to piles of rubble. The camera switched to a ground-level point of view, showing a reporter clutching her microphone in a tight grip as the wind blew savagely, the gusts pulling at her jacket and blowing her hair out of place. _

_ “We’re live at the scene on the outskirts of the National Mall,” the reporter yelled, the noise from the wind forcing her to raise her voice. “We haven’t been allowed to go past this point and the authorities refuse to tell us anything.” She motioned toward a police barricade that looked to be to the point of tipping over. "Earlier, we saw some people fleeing the area, covered in some sort of dusty substance.” _

_ To further prove the reporter’s point, a man came stumbling into the frame behind Karen, pushing his way through the barricades. He stopped and hunched over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. The reporter took her opportunity and approached the man with questions. “Sir! Are you alright, sir? Can you tell us what you’ve seen?” she asked as she pushed her microphone into his face. _

_ The man shook his head, coughing into his sleeve. He looked up at Karen and grabbed her arm. “We’ve gotta get out of here,” he said hoarsely, pulling at her arm, “I think there’s more coming. Please, we’ve gotta go now.” _

_ “Sir, calm down, what do you mean ‘there’s more coming?'” _

_ The man looked around nervously. “Look, lady, I’m not waiting around here to get killed. You’re crazy if you stay here.” He let go of her arm and shoved past her. _

_ Karen let out an annoyed huff and brushed her hair out of her face. "As you can see, D.C. is a very hectic, panicked situation." A loud boom interrupted her as she started to say something else, her words morphing into a broken-off expletive that she never got to finish. _

_ The video footage glitched, pixelating and the audio distorted, crackling until it cut out completely. It froze as a gray rush filled the camera and Karen disappeared. _

_ “Karen? Are you there, Karen?” The original anchorman in the newsroom returned onscreen, awaiting an answer. Any color had drained from his face, leaving him paler than when they’d seen him before. His gaze shifted to look at something offscreen. When he looked back into the camera, he let out a shaky breath. “It appears that we have lost connection with our D.C. crew.” _

_ A woman came in and whispered into the anchor’s ear before disappearing again. The anchor cleared his throat. “Folks, we now have official word from the American Civil Defense Association,” he said solemnly, struggling to keep his composure. “Major loss of life is now being confirmed in cities across the nation. My god...” _

_ A loud noise was heard from the newsroom before the broadcast went dark. The words ‘National Emergency’ appeared, replacing the hysterical tone of the news with the grating drone of its alert signal. An automated message played, the monotone voice void of any emotion. _

_ “The following message is transmitted at the request of the United States government. This is not a test,” it said. “Please remain calm...” _

_ “They can’t even tell us what’s happening,” Pietro muttered. “How the hell are we supposed to stay calm?” _

_ “Hush, we need to listen,” Wanda said, exasperatedly. “Just give it a second and it might say.” _

_ “President Ross will address the public on all stations, shortly. Standby for this message.” _

_ “Why wouldn’t he just come out and say something now?” Pietro said. _

_ “Pietro.” _

_ “Fine, I’ll be quiet.” _

_ To be honest, Wanda didn’t understand why the government was withholding the information either. How were people supposed to respond to the threat of death if they didn’t know why it was happening? Maybe it was just some sick joke, an experiment. Though the longer the recording played, the chance that it was a hoax seemed less and less likely. _

_ “...stay away from windows and seek shelter in the interior of a strong building on the lowest floor. Make sure to bring food, water, and a battery-powered radio with you,” it continued. “Tune to a station in your area for more information and do not exit until the all-clear has been given.” _

_ "People still use those old radios? Do we have one?” _

_ “Did you listen to anything the landlord told us?” _

_ “Of course I did.” _

_ “Then you would know there’s one in the closet with the laundry stuff,” Wanda said, although she was more concerned about why they needed to be inside a strong building. They were already on the second-lowest floor of the apartment building, but would brick withstand the kind of damage the news had detailed? The anchor described it as being ‘catastrophic,’ and the probability that hardened clay would protect them if they were affected seemed unlikely. _

_ “...do not use your telephone. The lines should remain open for emergency use...” _

_ Pietro pulled his phone from his pocket and insistently clicked at the home button. "Is your phone even working?" he asked, tossing the phone onto the coffee table. The blank, black screen slid a few inches across the wooden surface. _

_ Wanda didn't have any luck with her phone either. And neither was her laptop. It remained dormant when she slid her finger across the mouse pad, her reflection staring back at her in the dead screen. _

_ “What the hell?” Pietro whispered. He’d picked his phone back up and held down the button on its side to restart it, but nothing happened. “I just charged this thing this morning. I’ve barely used it today.” _

_ “Mine was charging.” Her phone was still attached to the white cord that was plugged into her laptop. _

_ “...all public broadcast and cable systems shall transmit the emergency action notification message. You are listening to the emergency alert system that serves New York City and surrounding areas. This message repeats...” _

_ Except, it didn’t repeat. It didn’t have the chance to because the television abruptly powered off, leaving the screen as black as Wanda’s laptop. The glowing red on/off indicator on the bottom corner wasn't shining anymore. _

_ Wanda’s heart dropped when the rest of the apartment followed. _

_ The ceiling lights and flickered once and then multiple times in quick succession before the power went out, leaving them in darkness, the pale light outside the only thing illuminating the apartment. The sirens that had been blaring outside ceased and the apartment fell so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Then, the building shook. Quiet tremors that made the floor shudder and creak. _

_ Wanda watched as Pietro got up from the couch and parted the window blinds with his fingers _

_ He backed away, holding his hand slightly out in front of him. _

_ Wanda stood. "Pietro? What did you see?” She tried to move closer to look out the window herself, but Pietro caught her by the arms and pushed her back. _

_ “What are you doing?” she hissed, though the words faltered when she saw the look on Pietro’s face. She would have been annoyed with his lack of answering if he hadn't looked so spooked. His hands were trembling as held onto her arms. He nearly dragged her into their closet and shut the door behind them and she strained to see him in the darkness. _

_ “This is the furthest room from the windows. They said it’s the safest place to be.” _

_ There was a sudden deafening sound like a freight train had rushed through the apartment. The closet door shuddered against its latch as if it was threatening to fly open at any moment. The walls seemed to groan. Pietro wrapped his arms around her and held her against him tightly like he was trying to shield her. _

_ All was quiet when it was over. _

_ “Found the radio,” Pietro said weakly, pointing to the shelf above Wanda. _

_ When they emerged from their hiding place and when the dust literally settled, they found that the world was an entirely different place. Broken and hurting. Glass from their windows littered the ground, the window blinds were torn and falling. Their door was blown open. The promised address from President Ross never came. Complete radio silence, on all stations. For weeks and weeks, they waited and scavenged, listening to the static. But, it was no use. Communications were severed. _

_ “We can never really escape Sokovia, can we?” _

_ “No,” Wanda murmured, “we can’t.” _

_ In less than thirty minutes, the world had ended, and no one knew why or how. _

“Well, it’s quite impossible to forget, isn’t it?” Vision said, staring at the empty bowl in his hand. “I wonder about it too, but I haven't found an answer yet. Perhaps the Earth just gave up on us. And maybe we'll never know."

“I’ve heard some people say that it was earthquakes or volcanoes, or both. That’s what they mentioned on the news that day,” Wanda said. “But, I can’t believe that. Earthquakes and volcanoes don’t do something like this.”

“You know, a year ago, I would have been working in a less than desirable tech repair shop, helping little old ladies and ornery gentlemen with their questions about their phones or laptops. That part, I didn’t mind so much,” Vision said with a smile like he was remembering a fond memory. “It was always rewarding when they finally understood, or at least pretended to after I spent well over an hour with them. At the time, it seemed dull, but right now, it's preferable. I would like nothing more than to return to my old life, but that simply isn’t an option. There isn’t much I can do that will change that, but I can do my best to make the most of the situation.”

Words couldn’t describe how much Wanda wished she had her old life back. Had her brother back. She couldn’t fathom the sheer optimism, or rather, acceptance Vision displayed. 

"I try not to dwell on what happened,” Vision said, shrugging, “but I suppose curiosity is in human nature.”

“How can you not dwell on it? Everything is different now.” 

“Well, a thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts,” he said, looking at her. “I think that applies to our world too.” 

Wanda finished her dinner in silence, turning over what Vision had said in her mind. She was surprised when her spoon scraped the bottom of the ceramic bowl, gathering up the last of the stew. The sun had long since set, the piercing fluorescent lights no longer aided by the natural light. 

“Thank you for bringing me this,” she said. “It was good.”

“Of course. I’m glad you enjoyed,” he said, standing as he stacked her bowl in his. “I’ll let you get some rest. I know you’ve had a long day.”

Wanda rose and met him at the door. “Alright.”

“I’m right down the hallway, should you need anything. Two doors down on the right.” 

“Thank you, Vision.”

He smiled and nodded at her. “Of course. Good night, miss.”

“Good night.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no definite answer on what exactly happened, but some insight into the last moments before the Catastrophe. I promise the question will be answered by the end of this fic though.
> 
> Thank you for reading and have a nice day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda meets some of the other camp members.

In the morning, another nightmare struck Wanda. She sat upright on her bed, heart nearly beating out of her chest. The first few moments of frightening consciousness were spent blinking rapidly as she struggled to get her bearings. 

The dark room offered no help. Her hand fumbled around in the darkness, parting against the bed and eventually the nightstand. She felt around and found the lamp, switching on the light with shaky fingers. The soft, incandescent light did not do a great job of illuminating the place. Parts of the room were shrouded in soft shadows, but there was enough light for her to see that it wasn't so unfamiliar after all. 

"_Sranje,_" she breathed, annoyed, but relieved. Right. The place Vision brought her to. She had fallen asleep on top of the bedsheets and she was in the previous night’s clothes. The pillow at the head of the bed was cool. 

Another nightmare, but there was still nothing to remember. 

Once her breathing slowed, she shook her head and a mirthless laugh followed. It was ridiculous. She was safe, nothing could hurt her. At least, that's what she wanted to believe. She didn't know these people. Yes, Vision and Nat treated her kindly, but she didn't _ know _ them. They could do anything to her. 

She glanced out the window. It was still dark outside, but the first signs of morning peeked through the treetops. A light navy haze rested above the trees and the sun started to rise.

Wanda sighed and slid herself out of the bed. She moved across the hallway to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. The gentle bite of the coolness soothed her nerves ever so slightly. 

When she came back into her room, she stopped in the doorway, looking at her forgotten backpack sitting next to the bed. She meant to unpack last night after Vision left, but the moment she laid back on the bed to "rest her eyes for a few moments" the exhaustion got to get and she passed out instead.

Now, looking at the bag filled her with dread. 

What little she could take from Pietro's belongings remained in the bag. The keepsakes, the little memories she couldn't do without, were all in there. They never had much after the Catastrophe. She had even less than she had before the incident at the cabin. She took all she could carry that belonged to Pietro. He didn’t have much either. Mostly the essentials for surviving day to day. Vision had waited patiently while she searched through his things, never rushing her.

A lump was already forming in her throat. "Shit," she whispered. She knew it would hurt, to look at what her brother had had only two days before. He had been alive and now she was alone. His things belonged to her. It had to be done, however. She would rip it off like a bandaid. Do it quickly. It wouldn't hurt as much that way.

Wanda knelt down next to the bag and instead of unzipping the first pouch, she found herself frozen in place. Her hand trembled in front of her, hovering inches away from the zipper. 

She couldn't bring herself to open it. She balled her hand into a fist and let it drop to her side with a defeated sigh. She couldn't bring herself to do it. 

Outside, the sun had risen well above the tree line. A little bird lit on the windowsill and chirped faintly as if it was laughing at her weakness before it flew away as quickly as it came. 

She got up from the floor and pushed the offending bag under the bed. Out of sight, out of mind. For now, at least. 

Her stomach growled and she refocused her attention on that, grateful for the distraction. She remembered passing the kitchen when Vision led her to her room, but she didn't want to go alone. So, she sought out Vision, remembering that he told her where his room was the night before. But, she didn't want to bother him. 

When she stepped outside her room, however, he was doing the same down the hall to her surprise.

"Miss?" 

Vision closed the door behind him. He gave a small wave that she returned weakly. "Are you alright?"

“I’m fine,” she said. 

He didn’t look convinced as he came closer. She followed his stare to her hands that were still trembling. To hide it, she clasped her hands together.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked.

She worried her lip, debating whether meeting his friends would be a good idea. On one hand, it would get her mind off of her brother. On the other hand, social interaction seemed like a chore, something she dreaded, but there was only so much time that one person could spend in a room without talking to anyone. Stifling loneliness was already setting in and it was worse than the former. ”Is it alright if I come to breakfast?”

He looked surprised. “Of course, though I planned to bring you some later on. I know you, understandably, wanted to take this slow."

“It’s the least I could do. I should be able to thank the people that have been so kind to me.”

Vision frowned. "Please don't feel obligated to. Your appreciation has been noted."

"I don't feel obligated," she said. “I’d like something to take my mind off of…”

He nodded with a slight grimace. “You're sure you want to do this?” he asked one more time. Wanda would have laughed at his insistence had he not looked so concerned about her. It had been so long since anyone, other than her brother, cared. “They won’t mind waiting and I truly do not mind bringing you breakfast.”

“I'm sure, Vision. Thank you." She gave him her most convincing smile to show him that she would be alright. Or maybe she did it more so to convince herself.

That seemed to be enough assurance to him because he smiled back. “We’ve certainly got a creative bunch here,” Vision said, almost like he was warning her. “But, they’ll be happy to meet you.”

"That's good to know."

Vision gave her a firm nod, pointing down the hall. “The dining area is just this way, then. We passed it on our way in if you remember.”

Wanda followed him down the hall. She remembers some of the paintings on the wall.

“Breakfast actually sounds good right now,” she said, “I can’t remember the last time I started the day with breakfast.”

"We'll have to change that then, miss. They say it's the most important meal of the day, after all," Vision said dryly and she couldn't help quirking her lips into a small smile. 

Two men were already in the kitchen. One man with salt and pepper hair wore a lab coat and was standing over the sink, washing his hands. Wanda thought she recognized the other man leaning against the counter, however. His strange goatee reminded her as he looked behind himself when he heard them approaching. 

"He looks familiar,” Wanda said to Vision. 

"Yes, well, I wouldn't be surprised if you've seen him before. He had quite the reputation in the media, well, before everything," Vision responded quietly. 

Then it clicked. When they approached the kitchen island, the man turned around and she knew why he looked so familiar. "He's—"

“The genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Tony Stark? Yep, that’s me,” he said with a grin. “Well, former billionaire, playboy. This whole apocalypse thing had something to say about my bank account. Still a genius and a philanthropist, though.”

“Tony,” the other man said exasperatedly. He pulled his glasses off of his nose and gave Wanda a warm smile, holding out his hand. “Don’t mind him, he’s always like that. I’m Bruce.”

“Wanda,” she said, shaking his hand.

“I figured,” Bruce said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, nice to finally meet you, kid. I was beginning to think that I would never meet the girl this one’s been talking so much about,” Tony said, nodding towards Vision. 

Wanda raised an eyebrow at Vision, surprised. "You talked about me?"

“I, uh… I just mentioned that you were here,” he said quietly, face flushed as he looked towards the ground.

Tony snorted like he wanted to keep stoking the fire, but he let the topic go. Instead, he turned around and bent down, disappearing under the counter as he opened one of the cabinets. 

"Well, would you like some breakfast then, Wanda?" Bruce asked. 

“If it’s not a problem. I still have some food I brought with me,” Wanda said offhandedly, watching Vision curiously. He had slipped into the corner of the kitchen, quietly watching the scene play out with his arms crossed. He was distancing himself.

"Don’t worry about that, you're welcome to anything in the cabinets or fridge. Our gardens keep us supplied," Bruce said. "Coffee? I'm about to make some."

"No, thank you." 

"Suit yourself," he said. She watched him curiously as he rolled the sleeves of his lab coat up.

"What do you do here?" Wanda found herself asking. 

"Oh, we're basically the camp geniuses," Tony stated matter-of-factly from where he was crouched.

“Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark are essentially our camp scientists here,” Vision explained. “They’re working to find a way out of this mess.”

Tony reappeared from under the counter, now holding a silver bag in his hand. “Yep,” he said, pulling what looked to be dried fruit out of the bag and popping them into his mouth. “I’m also the guy that built those snazzy walls out front. It keeps all the undesirables out. Dr. Banner is more of a medicine guy.”

“I thought we were supposed to be saving that kind of food," Bruce said. 

“What? It’s from my personal stash. Sue me. Oh wait, you can’t. No bank systems.” Tony said, shrugging. "Anyway, we essentially keep the lights on around here."

Natasha entered the kitchen rubbing her temples, heading straight for Bruce's pot of coffee. 

“Why the long face?” Tony asked. 

“Tony,” Bruce chastised before his brow creased concernedly towards Nat. 

Her fingers slid to pinch the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “Just give it a minute. I have a feeling you’re about to find out.”

“Steve and Fury again?” Bruce asked. He winced when she nodded. 

“Those two are always at it these days,” Tony said. “First thing in the morning too. The tension is killing me.”

Natasha ignored him, her attention focusing on Wanda and she gave her a tired smile. 

“Didn't expect to see you so soon,” Nat said, taking the seat next to her. "It's good to see you out and about, kid."

"I thought it might do me some good," Wanda said. 

A shout from down the hall reverberated around the room.

"—I'm tired of keeping secrets for you, Fury!” Everyone’s heads, aside from Nat who continued sipping from her steaming cup of coffee, snapped up to look down the hallway. "None of this is right."

A different, sterner but equally as loud voice, presumably Fury's, replied, "I suggest you calm down there, Captain."

"They deserve to know," the other man said, with the same amount of fervor.

"And they will, just not right now."

"Then when?"

"Soon."

Wanda stared as the blonde man that came out of the room slammed the door behind him. He shook his head. Even from a distance, she could see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

Wanda glanced over at Vision. He looked like he was just as confused as she was. 

"Deserve to know what?" Wanda asked quietly. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“Isn’t that the million-dollar question?” Tony cut in, rolling his eyes. 

"They've been bickering for weeks now," Bruce explained, "but, neither one of them wants to tell us what's wrong." 

"I'm glad we're all being so open with each other," Tony said. 

Wanda watched as the blonde man strode towards the kitchen. 

Tony, unsurprisingly, was the first to break the silence. "Well, look who decided to join us," he said. "Up for some breakfast, Charlie?"

The man scoffed under his breath, heading straight for the pot of hot coffee.

Bruce squinted at him, confused. "Who's Charlie?"

"Oh, just someone I knew when the world was still green. He was always arguing with his wife. I think her name was Nicole or something."

"Not important, Tony," Nat said, her glare shooting daggers at him. He held his hands up as if to surrender.

Vision cleared his throat. "Is everything alright, Captain?" he asked carefully.

"Yeah, everything’s fine,” the man, Steve, replied with a tight-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Fury and I just had a little disagreement. Y’know, the usual these days. It’s really nothing to be worried about.”

No one said anything. Wanda caught Tony rolling his eyes once again. 

“You must be Wanda,” Steve said, "nice to meet you. As you probably gathered, I'm Steve. I'm sorry that—" he waved his hand vaguely—"was your first impression of me."

“Don't worry about it,” she said, regarding him carefully. He was hiding something. There was no way that was a little disagreement, as he put it. “Thank you for giving me a place to stay. 

"Of course, it's our job to help whoever we can," Steve said.

"I’ll try to be gone as soon as possible.”

“Nonsense,” Steve said. “You can stay here as long as you need.”

“I don’t want to be a burden."

“You’re not a burden, miss,” Vision said, sounding shocked that she had said it. “We have plenty of resources.”

“No one’s gonna kick you out, kid,” Tony said, his tone completely serious for the first time in the short time she’d known him. “Any friend of Vision’s is a friend of ours."

Nat squeezed Wanda's shoulder, the gesture both oddly comforting and an even stronger show of solidarity. "You'll be alright here."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a minute, hasn't it? 
> 
> First, I want to apologize for not updating this for two months. I never intended to go so long without posting, so I'm sorry. Thank you for being patient with me. I'm going to do my best to post at least once a week from now on. 
> 
> As for this chapter, I hope that I kept everyone in character for the most part. 
> 
> And as always, thank you for reading. Have a nice day.


End file.
